


when the new paint gets scratched

by rotsquad



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotsquad/pseuds/rotsquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there you are underneath</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the new paint gets scratched

**Author's Note:**

> Quick 4am vent fic since I'm not feelin too good. Not beta'd at all as per usual.

Fortress Maximus was convinced he'd never be free of Overlord. In the physical sense maybe (after all he had first hand conformation the other had surely died, and even so he was safe under the "protections" provided. Not that he would readily admit to the need for them.) but never in the mental. In the mind he would always stay.

Little things seemed to remind Maximus of him. Things he would have never considered be painful reminders.

Once it was the sound of something revving (Which he later found out was Rodimus racing down the halls in a futile attempt to burn off steam), and that had put him down for the night. He wasn't too surprised at that reminder. He made a note to talk to Rung about it as soon as possible.

The next one came from an idle stroll in the halls. The patrons from Swerves milling about the other areas of the ship now that it was close to closing time. Maximus heard one of the smaller mechs (He saw no need to remember the crews names just yet, though recognized them solely through a combination of the ships rumour mill and the fact that they seemed to be everything. Emphasis on they. He was also certain they were welded together somehow.) say loving pet names to his Conjunx. Now usually this wouldn't bother Maximus, but some hit too close to the ones he heard. 'Cute' butcherings of names, sweet pet names when even not used condescendingly sent shivers up his spine. This one he was more surprised at. He did not take himself for someone so easily harmed by someone else's spare chatter. He made another note to bring this up to Rung.

Soon they kept popping up more and more. Sometimes they brought him down heavily, making his tanks lurch heavily and bile rise as he heard (such as the first few incidents, though it resurfaced again once he found out about the small mechs tape stash on him. He forgot the name yet again, the burning anger and disgust wiping it from his memory. He didn't like to count this as a flashback.) and some just made him uncomfortable. Made him just wiggle in his seat like something was crawling up his spine gently. He barely felt those. And those bothered him the most.

It was simple reminders of Overlord. Things he never knew he retained and now things he wanted out.

It started with ordering a drink, the first night he decided to brave Swerves alone once he was allowed back.

\--------------------------------

"What can I get you, ol buddy ol pal? Ol don't shoot my customers?" Swerve cracked, walking over to where Fortress Maximus sat on the stool by the bar. While it wasn't wise to site there, Swerve has thankfully accommodated a section for the larger clientele.

"I'm not sure." Maximus huffed, suddenly realizing the dead end he'd hit.

"Here, take a look at this." Swerve idly handed him a menu (a mix between fancy and rather trashy, though it seemed to fit), "And if you don't like that, well you're SOL because that's all we got right now."

Maximus eyed the menu, looking over the various lists of mixes and drinks. He spotted one he recognized, though he didn't exactly know from where. at first glance. The name seemed to pop out at him.

"What does this one have in it?" He tapped a drink on the lower end on the menu.

Swerve chuckled, taking the menu and looking over the drink the other chose. "The Real After All? That ones a doozey. Usually the heaviest carbonated engex in the house, mouth rotting syrups, and I'm pretty sure you're supposed to put an eye or something in there but you know what we don't do that here so I put a piece of scrap metal. Don't tell the guys."

And then it hit.

He remembered this drink first from a session with Overlord. The mech frustrated and complaining about his day as he cut into Maximus. Detailing the things he missed and loved, the drink being a top thing. He expected the feeling of lurching and bile to come back but it never did. Instead he just felt uncomfortable remembering. The feeling of doing so crawling up him and wrapping around his head and neck until he left without a word.

\--------------------------------------

The feeling kept coming back after that.

The second time was when he found himself thinking to himself about Overlords opinion on some of the variously security equipment lying around. He found himself recalling Overlords opinions on such things (Another thing he had been subjected too rant upon rant) and even considered them as regular thoughts for a moment before the feeling came back. He dismissed it all immediately. The third time came just as easy. And the fourth. And the fifth. And the sixth and the seventh until all that Maximus could think about was how everything reminded him of Overlord in some way. Everything reminded him of an experience or a phrase or even just a vague associations that would send him tumbling.

Even when he lay his head to rest, and when he was free to flashbacks he still has the thoughts. He still thought of the rants and the words and the interactions and even the simple cheerful "hello"'s that never failed to unsettle him at best.

He would never be able to escape, never be able to truly free of Overlords influence no matter how hard he tried. Maximus was quite certain that if Overlord saw him now, he would be smiling.


End file.
